The Rage Eater

Chapter 4: The Stranger

Sadie sat up in bed, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, sipping bone broth spiced with green onions from a chipped mug. She had peeled off her wet clothes as soon as Priestess Wu left, but the cold and wet had burrowed into her bones, leaving her with blue lips and a terrible chill.

"Why was she here?" Sadie said through chattering teeth.

"I don't know, my love," Gillian said. Quietly and tenderly, she laid another blanket on Sadie, then sat at the foot of her bed.

"She talked to me like a criminal," Sadie said.

"But she also came here as a representative of the Academy," Gillian said. "And the only true witness to your powers was a thief. His testimony alone is meaningless. So, she may believe you have red magic, but she has no proof you've used it. Which means, for now, you're safe."

A light rain pattered softly against the frost glass window. Unlike alchemist's glass, frost glass didn't allow you to see out into the world. Looking through it was like staring up at the world underwater. But light still passed through, and Sadie could tell that the worst of the storm had passed.

Sadie grabbed the mug of broth from her nightstand, careful not to knock over the tiny porcelain Raging Red that sat beside it. She inhaled the earthy smell of stewed bones and green onions, then took a sip. She closed her eyes as she swallowed, relaxing slightly as the broth warmed her.

"But she will be watching, listening," Gillian said. "And others will, too."

Sadie pulled the blankets up to her neck. She wanted to melt into a puddle and seep into the ground, to disappear. But mostly, she wanted to be normal, to be the kind of girl admired for her cleverness and speed and strength, not feared for her secret power.

"Sadie, I know this is terrible. I know you didn't ask for this. But you must accept things as they are, not as they ought to be. And that means controlling your anger."

"How?" Sadie had asked this question many times before. But the answers—breathing deeply, visualizing gentle beastlies, counting backwards—never seemed to help. It all felt like tossing a cup of water on a blazing inferno.

Gillian sighed. "Anger is like a feral beastly. It comes and goes as it pleases. But when it does come, snarling and furious, you mustn't surrender. Nor must you fight it. Either way, you lose. Instead, watch it, with curiosity. Be calm and gentle, and it will respond in kind, and leave you."

Sadie nodded as she closed her eyes, picturing a feral wolverine in a snow-covered forest. She had read stories of Tamers, people with the power to soothe even the most ferocious beastly. And she wondered if such a thing was possible.

"Could my father control his anger?"

"Sadie, please. You know I don't—"

"Why? Who is he?"

"Come on, you need your rest. Drink your broth and—"

"Who is he?"

"I don't know!" Gillian shouted.

For a moment, all Sadie could hear was the softly falling rain and her pounding heart. Gillian stared through the frost glass, her face angled away from Sadie. Then, she took a deep, steadying breath, and spoke.

"Twelve years ago, there was a terrible blizzard. Snow choked the skies and people locked themselves in their homes, too afraid to venture into the cold. I did the same, assuming no one was foolish enough to travel. I was wrong.

"On the second day of the blizzard, a gentle knock came at the door. Thinking it must be the wind, I ignored it at first. But the knock continued. When I opened the door, I was met by a stranger cloaked in fine black robes. He wore no mittens on his hands nor a hat on his head. And yet, he seemed unbothered by the cold, impervious to it.

"At first I was nervous. The stranger and I were alone, while the blizzard raged outside, wind howling and snow whirling madly. But he was warm, courteous. And instead of boasting about past battles or ordering me around, he asked me questions. As I served him stew and ale, he seemed only interested in me: my life, my hopes, my fears. And we spoke as if we were old friends.

"Later, as the sun fell and the blizzard calmed, he asked if I wanted a child. I told him that men never interested me. I had always found them loud, brutish, clumsy. But, yes, I wanted a child.

"He said magic made men unnecessary. That if I wanted a child, he would bless me with one. That I could consider it payment for my kindness and hospitality.

"We sat in silence as I considered the question. Finally, I said yes. He smiled, thanked me, and walked out into the cold, dark night.

"The next morning, I woke up, vomiting. Even without a Healer, I knew it wasn't any sickness. I was pregnant. With you. The stranger had blessed me with a child. And I was joyful.

"But then I panicked. There was a hole in my mind. I could remember the stranger's words and fine black robes. But I couldn't remember his face or name—at all. It had been wiped from my mind like snow from glass."

Gillian turned around and faced Sadie. Her face was red and streaked with tears. "I'm sorry I never told you, my love. But I couldn't lie. And the truth was too hard. I never wanted you to feel afraid."

Sadie felt dizzy. Her whole life she'd wanted to know the truth, to have some inkling of who her father was or where she came from. Now that she did, she didn't know how to feel.

Gillian rubbed Sadie's cheek and looked into her eyes. "I don't know who your father is. I doubt I ever will. But he put a baby in my belly. And he cut out my memories. That requires power, red magic. And that magic lives in you."